


Perhaps

by highwayKing



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Gen, Inspired By Tumblr, One Shot, just two lines from the entire book so i don't know how much that counts, might have spelling errors, short fic, slight spoiler to journal 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7876816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwayKing/pseuds/highwayKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Perhaps he can yet prove his worth to me.”</p>
<p>Stan’s shoulders were shaking. There on the page his fears were laid out, tainting the surface with black, poisonous ink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> A quick thing I did inspired by thesnadger's post: http://highway-king.tumblr.com/post/149510491761/zfiledh-thesnadger-but-seriously-dont
> 
> Slight spoilers for Journal 3, don’t worry, all I have to rely on is that picture, I don’t own a copy of the book.

_“Perhaps he can yet prove his worth to me.”_

Stan’s shoulders were shaking. There on the page his fears were laid out, tainting the surface with black, poisonous ink.

Maybe Ford had written it in hope, thinking that Stan had redeemed himself, thinking that they could start anew, fresh. Not so long ago Stan thought the same, right about when the postcard was slipped under his door.

Perhaps mistakes could be undone.

Perhaps they could forgive each other.

_Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps._

He stood up and walked around the room, the one that once was Ford’s study, the journal was left forgotten on the couch still open to that horrible page.

He had failed him. It was that simple.  

Ford asked a single, simple thing form him and he had failed him. He could have fixed everything by just swallowing his pride, take that stupid book and sail to the end of the world and stay there for all he cared because then he would have done something _worthwhile_ with his life.

Stan grabbed his hair and tugged on it. He had half a mind to tear out that blasted page, crumple it up and set it on fire. But after what had happened Stan didn’t even dared to fold the tip of a random page.

He walked around a bit more, then tiered he finally sat down again. He looked at the book, then he picked it up again.

Maybe he can change. Maybe he can prove himself to Ford. He can do it. He only had to restart the portal, get his brother back, leave everything behind and live happily ever after. Simple as that. He won’t let a flimsy scribble on a damn journal bring him down.

He is Stanley Pines and he is going to fix his mistakes.

 

An hour and twenty minutes passed since Ford had returned from whatever nightmare dimension he had been sent to. Instead of celebrating, like he had hopped, Stan was sitting in his dark room nursing a blackening spot on his cheek.

Where Ford had struck him.  

Having his heart ripped out wouldn’t hurt as much as this.

For the first time in many years Stan felt like crying. He thought that he had done it, that he had rescued his brother and fixed his mistakes but it seems he had made an ever bigger mess. The whole town was turned upside down, the agents almost caught all of them and he was to be evicted by the end of summer.

Stan buried his face in his hands and sighed deeply, something was stinging the corner of his eyes.

This sucks big time.

After all this time he still couldn’t prove himself. ‘Perhaps’ be damned, this will never be fixed.

 

It’s the end of summer, and the end of the world. And finally Stan is going to set everything right.

Here they were, the both of them, stuck in a glowing cage and waiting for the triangle demon to return for them. Stan changed cloths with Ford to trick Cipher into making a deal with him, then his mind could be wiped along with the dream demon.

Taking Ford’s place was easy enough, he had pretended to be him for years, he can do it for a couple more minutes.

From the corner of his eyes he believes he could see Ford reaching out for him in concern, but there was no comforting hand on his shoulder. He must have imagined it.   

Footsteps echoed down the hall. It’s show time then.

 

Ford’s hands shook as he pointed the gun at his brother kneeling before him as if he was about to be executed. That was as close to the truth as it could get, the gun would kill him in all but literally. He would be gone, erased, only an empty husk left behind.

But what other choice did they have other than this. He had to pull the trigger, or else the entire world would pay the price for his hesitation. But this was Stan, how could he hurt him.

In that moment he remembered something. A meager thing that was only a fleeting thought more than thirty years ago. It seemed so random that of all things he would remember that, and in a time like this as well.

It was a little thing he had written down in his journal, one that Stan must have seen, and must have taken to heart too, he could imagine. He too was ashamed that he had even written it down.

He closed his eyes and fired the gun.

There, it was done, no turning back now. If they survived he swears he will make it up for him. Perhaps he can set everything right. At least he could try.


End file.
